How Unoriginal
by PuppetOrMaster
Summary: When Sherlock is sent a very plain text message from his nemesis, his interest is piked, but after arriving at the designated destination the proceedings bore him. What is Moriarty planning to do while babbling on in such a boring manner? Rated T for homoerotic themes and slight violence. SherlockXMoriarty Oneshot!


_Hey guys, this is the second of my BBC oneshots written for my friend, it's Sherlock's turn this time. There will be another Sherlock themed one coming along eventually, the editing is taking a while (I'm not that motivated right now :p ). Well anyway, enjoy!_

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Sherlock's eye twitched annoyingly as each drop of water fell to the ground, the gloomy building shrouding him in shadows. Although he wouldn't admit it, Sherlock found the building creepy. The beams creaked, the lights flickered and died, dirt caked the walls and every step he took wet his feet as the water rippled around his feet. But what really set him on edge was the looming shadow of Moriarty, the man who was hidden somewhere in these boring shadows.

It had all started with a text message. How Moriarty had gotten his number, Sherlock didn't know, but couldn't be bothered to figure out. It was too easy, and bored him. The message itself had been boring.

_Come meet me at the warehouse on Third Street. Come alone. _Not exactly the brain teaser Sherlock had come to expect from his nemesis, even if he had to figure out which of the ten warehouses on Third Street was the right one. So, after eliminating certain warehouses, analysing the potential danger, attempting to figure out Moriarty's reason of calling him out and why he had to come alone, Sherlock walked through the darkness with hundreds of different possibilities. Moriarty was just a bit too unpredictable.

Even so, he did as he was told and came to the (correct) warehouse alone.

Finding the psychopath would be no difficulty, the ground showed obvious evidence of where he had been walking, coupled with the bright red arrows dotted all over the walls with the words 'This way Sherly :) ' written brightly above them. Even though it was Moriarty, Sherlock deducted that there was no immediate danger and continued to follow the arrows, telling himself it was his head not instinct that told him he was reasonably safe.

"Hello Mary," a bright voice came from behind him as Moriarty bounced out of the shadows. He wore the black suit that he always seemed to wear after playing the part of a gay man, a playful smile on his face.

_Mary as in virgin, _thought Sherlock. _How unoriginal._

"I see that you got my message," the madman said, rocking on his toes. "And that you saw the arrows."

"The arrows were unnecessary," Sherlock said flatly, his eyes wondering around the level. "Why did you call me here?"

Moriarty's smiled widen slightly.

"Always in such a rush my dear Sherlock," he said lightly. "No time for small talk."

Sherlock sighed, bored. If the madman in front of him had done something worthwhile, he'd be bragging about it all ready, so the current situation wasn't going to improve anymore. He eyed one of the smiley faces painted on the wall and considered firing a few rounds into it.

"Sherly, you look bored."

"I am."

"Well I'll get straight to the point then."

Sherlock focus shifted back to the man. "I'm listening."

The psychopath grinned. "So I was walking down the street the other day, just walking around, thinking about the countless painful and wondrous ways I could cause the deaths of all the dim-witted simpletons around me and how to get away with it yet again when I overheard a conversation."

The man had begun to pace, gesturing wildly as he did, Sherlocks trained eye following and noting every movement.

"So you see, I happened to walk past these two girls wearing skirts that were most **definitely **too short for them –I mean what would their parents say? – and they were discussing the best way to put a person on his guard. Now this I found verrrry interesting. Now, they were too young for such a conversation due to the content being quite explicit, right in the middle of the street too. But it got me thinking, 'what does the great Sherlock Holmes have to say on the subject?' and wallah, here we are." He finished with a flare, spreading out his arms and giving a quick twirl.

Sherlock processed the information quickly.

"And you thought this was an appropriate place?" the genius asked, gesturing at their grimy surroundings.

"Well I am still being pursued by the elder Holmes brother," Moriarty replied with a mischievous smile.

"That's no hindrance to you."

"True, but you know me Sherlock."

"I may know you, but assuming that I can predict your thoughts is a bit of a stretch."

Moriarty blanched. "What?"

"Oh, I can figure out what your actions may be a majority of the time, but how I know this will be from deducting previous actions and predicting future outcomes. We think differently."

The shorter man shrugged. "If that's what you think," he said with a wink.

"Well, this is staring to borrrrrrre me," the man sang out. "Let's get this show on the road, eh Sherly?"

And he quickly closed the safe distance Sherlock had made, reaching up so his arm wrapped around the taller man's head, forcing it down into a kiss.

Moriarty's tongue lashed out into Sherlock's mouth, digging deep into it, dragging his tongue over the mans insides. His hands ruffled through the sociopath's curly black hair, making it stick up at odd angles. But the man stood still, unaffected by the proceedings.

Angered, Moriarty deepened the kiss, his teeth hitting hard against Sherlock's. He moved one hand lower on the consultant's body, pressing against the man's rear. He bit the man's lip, and smiled as he felt something rise and begin to press into him.

My, my, Sherlock. Is that a gun or are you-" And he broke off into an ear-piercing scream as a bullet pierced through his foot.

"It a gun," Sherlock answered the unfinished question, watching as the psychopath stumbled backwards screaming as his blood began to pool out of his foot and stain the dirty ground a dull red. He pulled the weapon out of his pocket and checked the hole it had made in the fabric of his jacket, his face twitching into a grimace as he observed the damage.

"That was hardly entertaining," he said, looking back up at Moriarty as the man's screams subdued, the injured eyes staring murder into him. "Now if you don't mind, I have a date to keep with John."

And with that, he pivoted on the ball of his foot and swiftly exited the building, his cloak billowing out behind him dramatically as a continuous stream of death threats came echoing out the door behind him.

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_Any feed back is welcome! Next time Sherlock comes around it'll be with John and a bit more... explicit ^_~_


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